


When is this night gonna end?

by leetaeyongs



Series: New Year's Eve [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, First work - Freeform, M/M, Open ended, yoinks uhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 13:08:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20760866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetaeyongs/pseuds/leetaeyongs
Summary: On this cold, dark night, the only working lamp post was standing right in front of him.





	When is this night gonna end?

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from mal blum's 'new year's eve'

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

It had been too long. Meeting each other after so much time spent apart just didn’t sit well-- it was like dropping an entire container of Mentos into the soda filled pits of his stomach, exploding and seeming to color his insides out. After four long years in the military, Jaebum wasn’t entirely ready to see his best friend yet. What if things were different now? What if he had changed? Were they still even best friends? 

He rubbed at his nose quickly. The time for thoughts was wiped away by the city’s very own winter plague.

The cold air bit at his ears. Chicago was quiet this time of night. However, even from here, you could hear the soft mechanical whirrs of engines and the crackling of rough gravel underneath his worn out boots. He should probably step inside now, the image of his best friend of 17 years waiting expectantly through the window of both his heavy mind, and the rundown Mediterranean cuisine he was currently loitering in front of, etching into his thoughts. The syringe of guilt elicited even more doses into his bloodstream.

Before he knew it, he was zoning out. His eyes zeroed on a single ‘OPEN’ sign that snickered and taunted him with rays of glacier blue and flashing eyes of fiery red. The sound of a creaky door being pushed resonated from somewhere in the back of his mind, but it was nothing compared to the sign’s seething insults. If it could speak, it would sound like a snake. All bite and no mercy whatsoever.

“Jaebum! What are you-- how long have you been out here?”

When he snapped out of his daze like a lightswitch being turned on, he was face to face with the very person he was for some reason dreading to see. 

“Mark?” 

Mark, who right now was his worst nightmare, smiled a greeting practically dripping with the sun’s rays. In this cold, dark night, the only working lamp post was standing right in front of him. 

“It’s freezing out here,” The younger boy mumbled. “Let’s go inside?”

Jaebum simply nodded, gesturing with an arm’s wave to the restaurant, holding open the door for him, smiling despite the wind outside seeming to freeze over his heart. Mark beamed, and Jaebum cringed at himself.

Mark’s hair was longer.

\---

The restaurant was nice. The food was too, but picking at it seemed more interesting. An overwhelming scent of freshly cooked beef wafted through the air like a middle school secret being passed around, flitting over his head, through his nose, and replacing his troublesome thoughts with the desire to eat. Jaebum stuck his fork deeper into the meal. 

Mark did nothing but watch him. Small talk would be small talk, and best friends would be…

Best friends.

Nothing more, nothing less. That is where they drew the line. It was marked with gasoline, and Mark was holding the torch.

“Was the military really that bad?”

Jaebum looked up with a startled noise. “What?”

“Was the military really that bad, that you can’t even talk to me about it?” Mark pondered, intertwining his fingers and propping his head up on his hands. There was a silver band on his ring finger. Despite it being on Mark’s finger, Jaebum felt a tightness encompass his throat. Snatching away at his oxygen and depriving him of coherent sentences. In this crashing airplane, there were no airbags nearby.

With a heavy inhale, he looked back at the ring. It fit perfectly.

“It was fine, um, sorry. It’s not you, I just…” 

Again, his words failed him. He couldn’t meet Mark’s eyes. They held the bottom of the ocean, and Jaebum had no idea how to stay afloat. When he lifted his head, Mark was frowning. Of course he was frowning. Making him frown seemed to be the only thing Jaebum was good at anymore.

Anymore.

Yes, because he was good at it before. That’s what best friends did. They made each other smile, they made each other laugh, they were there for one another. They recognized feelings like the backs of their hands. On summer days, when classes were over, they would go out to eat together. They would spend early mornings running laps around the college’s track, reeking of sweat, blowing wind chimes of laughter into the air, humming melodic tunes louder than the birds themselves. They would wipe each other’s tears and smile through their heart breaks, whispering reassuring words and curling up together with a silent promise. They would stand over the stove in their shared dorm, the sweet aroma of a poor attempt at baking cake shrouding the room in the delightful mood of Christmas, plates clinking harshly against the ground, the groans of frustration and disapproval shrieking through the air as they embraced each other for the fifth time that evening. Best friends would always be best friends. 

No, Jaebum thought.

Friends don't do the things we did. 

“I’ve just been thinking about some things.” Jaebum began. Mark perked up at the sudden confession, his arms shifting position and crossing on the table. “Since I joined the military. Since I realized how much I missed your company. You-- you’ve been--” He cut himself off with a sigh, shutting his eyes and relishing in the calm before the storm. The feeling of tears building up pricked at his eyes, stinging, burning every corner, lighting his heart aflame. Maybe if Mark stared at him long enough, Jaebum would spontaneously combust. 

Friends weren’t supposed to do this, to feel this, to want this. The ticking of a grandfather clock from the entrance of the restaurant looped around his brain, it was a program, there was a mishap in this code-- something, somewhere, went wrong, the existential pouding was practically begging to be released from its chains and to simply be. If he could rewrite the code, he would, but the keys were sticky with orange juice and the corks in his consciousness were grinding to a slow halt, creaking and squeaking until they finally just stopped. They were done, logic took a plummet, and all he could do was survive the freefall. 

The fork that was once in his grip fell onto the smooth, freshly mopped tile floor, and if he did an abundant amount of concentrating, he could probably hear it echoing around the room.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Jaebum suddenly said, but the words tasted bitter. They tasted like fast-food coffee without the properly stirred sugar, sitting on his tongue but threatening to be spit out. He wanted to ask for more sugar, for a spoon to stir it with, yet instead he sat there and allowed himself to swallow. It went down only to rise back up his throat, and oh god, did he feel like throwing it all up. 

“...What?”

When he finally brought himself back to reality, he felt his heart break.

Mark looked afraid. No-- he looked terrified. Like someone had just slapped him in the face, taken his belongings, and kicked him out of his own house. As if all that his life amounted to was for nothing. Jaebum watched as his eyes were encased with a layer of despair, the gutters collecting the remnants of storms until the top gave out and overflowed. 

Jaebum felt horrible. 

“Mark, I--”

“Don't-- I have to--” Mark rose to his feet, boots hitting the table harshly as he scurried away to the side like a frightened animal. “I have to go.” 

Before Jaebum could even seize the opportunity, it was being tugged away from him. Stolen in the form of Mark rushing out of the store, shoving his phone in his pocket and running a hand through his hair before sounding the bells of someone’s exit with his departure into the night. 

He was gone. 

The clock continued to tick. Jaebum looked down at his shoes, the ragged, rubber material. The paintings in the restaurant, ablaze with color and igniting everyone else but him in a warm glow. As he slid his face into the comfort of his palms, the lights flickered above him.

Mark’s hair really had gotten longer.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RucnlbLTrwM


End file.
